


to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed

by a_novel_idea



Series: we need not be let alone [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Books, F/M, Fahrenheit 451, Grandfather!Hercules Hansen, Hong Kong, Humor, Jaeger Pilots, Jaegers, Kaiju, Kid!Fic, Kids, M/M, Mechanics, Saving the World, Sea Monsters, growingup!Chuck Hansen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_novel_idea/pseuds/a_novel_idea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>It’s eleven forty-five and Raleigh is back in his room, has been for hours. He’s lying in his bunk, flipping through a paperback book he didn’t even realize he’d brought with him; he’d found it in the bottom of his duffel bag.  It’s a familiar book, the pages worn, the spine split in the places it’s been read most; some passages have been highlighted or underlined.</em> </p><p> <em>The knock on his door is light, and surprising. When he answers the door, the last thing he’s expecting is Chuck Hansen standing in the hall in his pajamas. His hair’s tousled, like he’d rolled over a few times in bed then run his fingers through it. He’s wearing his father’s Jaeger Academy Class of 2016 t-shirt.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed

**Author's Note:**

> this is part of the god-awful hideous thing that spawned from my brain. have fun playing with it.
> 
> NOTE: i updated this, but really i just changed a few words and added some italics where i forgot them, so nothing actually changes.

Within the first week in the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Raleigh Becket determines that the post-government installation operates like a stereotypical American high school. And, just like in said American high schools, it is nowhere more noticeable than in the cafeteria. The J-Tech crews and the K-Science teams don’t mix, in some places going so far as to separate themselves by a seat or two. The restoration and repair crews sit in the same area, but Raleigh can still pick out who belongs to which Jaeger due to the patches each of them are wearing with pride. The Rangers all occupy one larger table in the corner. 

On the first two days he sits by himself, mostly because the only things he’s done are work out in the Kwoon and re-accustom himself to the small, compact double room he’s occupying by himself. On the third day, Sasha Kaidonovsky manhandles him to the table that the Russians and the Wei triplets are occupying. And when Raleigh says ‘manhandle’, he really means ‘twisted into a surprise headlock and dragged to a then unknown destination while Aleksis Kaidonovsky spirits his tray out of his hands to protect his food’. Hercules Hansen stops by for just a moment, mostly to say hello and gather food for himself. Chuck Hansen stays away, which Raleigh is thankful for considering the look Chuck had given him when they’d been introduced. Raleigh is no stranger to disdain. 

On the fifth day, he gets into a physical altercation with Chuck. Raleigh’s been in the Kwoon all morning, working out and test running some of the candidates Mako Mori had picked out as potential Drift matches. Chuck’s been watching with the rest of the small crowd that’s gathered, and Raleigh honest to God does not care what the punk ass kid thinks of him, but after a week of snide remarks from Chuck and other PPDC members and the pitying looks he still gets from the remaining techs that were present with him in Alaska five years ago, and a wholly unsuccessful morning sparing with recruits, young and old, fresh and weathered, the Aussie’s comment is the last crack in the glass. Raleigh’s not ashamed to say he broke the kid’s nose, but not without Chuck returning fair play.

It’s Herc that breaks them apart, though Raleigh wonders why Mako didn’t do it herself. Then he spots her muttering to a technician branded with the Wei triplets’ dragon seal, their heads bent over Mako’s never-absent tablet, their fingers moving with detailed precision over the screen. If she had been aware of the fight, and Raleigh seriously suspects that there is not much that escapes Mako Mori, it did not top her list of concerns at the moment; he suspected it didn’t even break into the top five. 

Raleigh skips lunch for the next two days. 

On the eighth day, he’s coerced back into the cafeteria by Jin Wei and a much coveted chocolate bar. He hasn’t had chocolate in years. So Raleigh is stuffed into a seat between Jin and Cheung Wei, though he can’t complain; Hu’s seated directly across from him, squished between the wide shoulders of Sasha and Aleksis Kaidonovsky. The Russians have abandoned their ever-present stereo for the moment, choosing to listen to the triplets converse in fast-flying Mandarin. Raleigh can’t understand a word they’re saying; Mandarin was not on the list of languages he learned in the Academy. Aleksis obviously does because he breaks out in a large, booming laugh at the same time Jin and Hu do; Cheung slumps and digs his fork into the rest of his mashed potatoes. 

Hu is in the middle of another long, long sentence, most likely still tattling on his brother to the Kaidonovskys , when a god awful shriek sounds through the cafeteria and Raleigh’s ear drums threaten to rupture. Everyone in the football stadium sized room continues to act normally, and he wonders if he’s hearing things; with the hallucinations he’s had in the past, hearing things is not beyond his realm of belief. He’s about to ask one of the triplets when Raleigh hears a familiar bark sound through the cafeteria. 

He sits up a little bit straighter, to see over Jin’s head, and spots Max, Chuck’s English bulldog, crouching and threatening to pounce on something hiding behind a table full of K-Science personnel. Max leaps forward and the shriek sounds again, and this time Raleigh spots a few of the men at the table by Max wince, so he knows he isn’t hearing things. Max reappears, his stump of a tail wagging as ferociously as possible, and it’s then that a little girl, maybe eight or nine years of _adorable_ , jumps out from behind the table. She’s got long amber-brown colored hair, and she’s wearing a tiny version of the coverall body suits that the restoration and repair crews wear, except hers is olive green. She’s even wearing a tiny pair of scuffed up work boots. 

He wonders how much he hasn’t been paying attention to, if an eight year old running freely through the cafeteria is normal.  
A short whistle sounds, and Raleigh moves his attention to none other than Chuck Hansen. He’s carrying two trays towards their table, and the girl and Max go running to his side when he nods his head in the direction of the Ranger’s corner. The girl and Max beat Chuck to the table and she politely asks,

“Do ya min’ if Ducky and I sit wif you?”

“You are always welcome,” Aleksis says, producing an additional chair that Raleigh is convinced he hid using his muscle mass alone. 

“Thank ya,” she chirps and climbs up into the chair. Sitting down, her mouth just tops the table, but she has no problem launching into a drawn out story about how she and Ducky had taken Max for a walk around downtown Hong Kong earlier that morning, and how they had seen Uncle Han and he had given her a chocolate bar; her thick Irish brogue only adds to the effect. 

By the time she’s recounting her and Ducky’s return, Chuck is standing over her with both trays. Once she pauses for a breath, and Raleigh is impressed that she made it through most of her tale without a significant need to breath, Chuck sets both of the trays in front of her seat and hauls her up by the collar of her jumpsuit. 

“Up, you little ankle bitta.”

When she turns in Chuck’s grip, Raleigh sees, and how could he have missed it, Striker Eureka’s insignia blazed across her back.

Chuck takes a seat in the chair the girl had previously occupied and sets her in his lap. She wiggles rather harshly, and by Chuck’s wince he probably got an elbow to the ribs, and settles.

Too seriously for an eight or nine year old, she tells Chuck, “If ya call me an ankle bitter ‘gain, I’ll kick ya in _yer_ ankle.”

Hu snorts into what’s left of his winter melon soup, and that’s the blow that breaks the dam. Everyone at the table is laughing, even Raleigh himself, and they’re starting to receive a few suspicious looks from the rest of the room by the time they settle down, but damn if Raleigh didn’t need that. Even Chuck’s shoulders shake, though he is careful not to unseat his charge. The girl protests, outraged that they’re laughing at what was meant to be a serious threat.

Chuck quiets her disdain with a kiss on the head and a soft, “Shush and eat your food, sweetheart.”

She viciously jabs at the green beans, mashed potatoes, and chicken fingers on her tray for a moment before she waves the same fork in Raleigh’s direction and demands, “Who’s he?” in a petulant tone. 

“This is Ranger Raleigh Becket,” Chuck says in a pointedly neutral voice. 

Her fork stops half way to her mouth, and the mound of potatoes she had gathered plops onto the table top. Her eyes are comically wide and she turns back to stare at Chuck, who just rolls his eyes. Turning her burning blue gaze back to Raleigh, she says reverently,

“You pilot Gypsy Danger.”

“That’s right.”

“Gypsy Danger is mah _favorite_!” she says with such enthusiasm that Chuck has to grab a hold of her lest she fall from her perch. She smacks him on the hand, which he gawffs at, but he lets her down. She rounds the table, wiping her hands on her jumpsuit, to stand just off of Raleigh’s side. Chuck stares him down and spins his finger in a circle, miming for him to turn. Never thinking to do otherwise, Raleigh obeys and turns in his seat to face the slip of girl that comes with such a big personality.

She stands up straight, and offers him her hand. Raleigh shakes it just like he would anyone else’s, seeing no need to be condescending, and sees out of the corner of his eye that some of the animosity on Chuck’s face has receded.

“My name is Avis Oswyn Feeley. Gypsy Danger is mah favorite Jaeger.”

“That’s not what your jumpsuit tells me,” Raleigh teases.

“Ducky says as long as I wear Striker’s em’lem, if I ge’ lost, then someun knows where t’ bring me back t’. ‘Sides,” she shrugs, “Gypsy hasnea had a pilot in five years.”

“It’s a smart idea,” Raleigh says, avoiding the comment about Gypsy’s pilotlessness.

“He knows,” she says so flatly and in such an insulting way that Raleigh is just a cough away from losing it again.

Jin, however, _has_ lost it. He excuses himself from the table and stumbles from the cafeteria, laughter following him all the way out.

“He’s so strange,” Avis comments as if Jin in hysterics is a normal day-to-day thing.

“They’re all strange, sweetheart,” Chuck says, but Raleigh can’t seem to be insulted.

“If they’re strange,” she says, placing her hands on her hips, “then yer the king of weird.”

“If you promise to eat all your green beans, I’ll let you sit by Becket,” Chuck says, completely changing the subject.

Avis looks between Raleigh and the sneer-worth vegetables on her tray and says, 

“Deal.”

The rest of lunch is a rather quiet affair.

***

The next morning in the Kwoon sees Raleigh again warming up to test more candidates. Mako is present, sitting peacefully on the sidelines, making the occasional comment about one recruit or another, and generally disagreeing with his pattern of movements. Avis and her Irish accent are still on his mind and he can’t stop himself from asking Mako,

“Who let’s Chuck Hansen babysit?”

“I beg pardon?” Mako says, looking up from her tablet.

“Chuck with a kid. Yesterday in the cafeteria. Little Irish girl.”

Even with his lack of complete sentences Mako is able to discern his meaning.

“You have met Miss. Avis,” she says, “but you also misunderstand. Ranger Hansen was not babysitting. He has assumed care of Avis. He is her primary guardian at the time.”

Raleigh twists out of a stretch and sits down heavily.

“Chuck Hansen adopted a kid,” is what comes out of his mouth.

Mako nods. 

“Avis’s mother was on Striker Eureka’s repair crew. She was lost a year and a half ago.”

“Kaiju?” Raleigh asks.

“Cancer,” Mako responds. “The PPDC agreed that Ranger Hansen could take custody until her father was found, but he has yet to be located.”

“So Chuck’s just going to keep her?”

“Avis has been the cause of much of Ranger Hansen’s maturation over the last eighteen months. He still has his bad days,” she says, obviously remembering the fight not a week gone, “but we all do. The Chuck Hansen that walks these halls most days is becoming a rather devoted father figure.”

Raleigh, who couldn’t spot a decent, never mind devoted, father figure after his childhood, wisely keeps his mouth shut.

***

On day eleven, Raleigh has given the Kwoon up to the remaining recruits and settles for a run around the base of the Shatterdome. It’s raining, but not hard enough to be a bother, so he doesn’t let it stop him. After fifteen minutes his socks are wet, and his feet are trying to get cold, but he still continues, determined to lap the structure at least once. He started by the Jaeger bay doors, and when he circles around to the end of the Shatterdome that faces greater Hong Kong, he spots a small figure bobbing and weaving around spare and mutilated parts, both Jaeger and auto in nature, in what serves as the spare part/ junkyard portion of the Shatterdome. 

The figure scrambles and jumps and finally hauls itself up onto a mutilated Jaeger foot, and Raleigh thinks it looks a lot like Gypsy’s old metal plating, and he can see the olive green, red, and bright white that makes up Striker Eureka’s insignia. Even though he already has it figured out, it just adds to the conclusion when Avis screams out, 

“MAX!”

Raleigh heads in her direction, and Avis continues to call out for the missing bulldog.

“Avis!” Raleigh shouts over the heavily growing pish-pash of rain of the ground and surrounding metal. “Avis!”

Avis turns to look at him, clearly unaware that he had even been present.

“What are you doing out here?” Raleigh asks.

“I cannae find Max, Ranga Becket. I be’n lookin’ fer ‘im all mornin’!”

“Come down!” he says, reaching for her hand.

Avis takes his hand and still manages to slip off of the slick metal beneath her. Raleigh catches her and hauls her up to balance on his hip. She’s soaking wet, looking more drowned by the second, and Raleigh would bet what chocolate he has left that Chuck doesn’t know she’s out here.

“I gotta find Max, Ranger Becket. Please put m’ doon.”

Raleigh does set her down, but he won’t let her move away. He shucks his rain slicker, the only reason his shirt has yet to get wet, and pulls it around Avis’ shoulders. She’s shivering, but the look in her eyes tells Raleigh that she won’t go anywhere without a fight, not without finding Max first. Raleigh runs his wet hands through his equally wet hair and says,

“Let’s go in and get dry, then I’ll come out and help you find Max, yeah? Chances are he’s wandered into someplace warm and dry anyway.”

“I cannae go back t’ Ducky withou’ Max!” she says, nearing hysterics. “Is mah job t’ watch ‘im today!”

Raleigh scoops her into his arms while she’s still distracted by the possibility of conceding defeat, and begins to head back to the general warmth of the Shatterdome. Avis doesn’t fight him, but she does wrap her thin arms around Raleigh’s neck and whisper,

“Ducky’s gonna be mad tha’ I lost Max.”

“Ducky will be happy that you’re safe and not sick. We’ll find Max and he’ll be just fine.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, Avis. I promise.”

No one has to point him in the direction of Chuck’s room because Chuck finds them first. Raleigh and Avis, who’s back on her feet, just step into the quartered section of the Shatterdome when Hansen Jr. rounds the other end of the hall.

“Avis!” he calls, and the relief in his voice makes Raleigh rethink what Mako told him.

“Bloody crickets,” Chuck says picking her up, dripping wet and all. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all over!”

“I lost Max!” she says, and the waterworks that Raleigh was hoping to avoid rush to the forefront. Avis leans forward and grabs a hold of Chuck’s shirt, crying into his collar. Chuck, for his part, pets her head and hefts her up further onto his hip while she sniffles her way through an explanation. “We was playin’ outside an’ it started rainin’ an’ I threw th’ ball ‘gain, bu’ Max dinnae come back! I was lookin’ an’ then it was rainin’ ‘arder and Ranga Becket brough’ m’ in but I still dinnae fin’ Max!”

“Avis Feeley, look at me,” Chuck says firmly, but not unkindly. When Avis lifts her head he continues, “Max came in forty minutes ago. He’s alright. You are alright. Now say thank you to Ranger Becket, and we’ll get you dried off. It’s about time for lunch.”

Avis nods at him and turns to Raleigh, “Thank ya fer bringin’ me in, Ranga Becket.”

“It was no problem, Miss. Avis. Try to stay away from the junkyard in the rain next time,” he smiles.

As Raleigh turns towards his own hall, with the highest hopes of a scalding hot shower and maybe a five minute nap, he hears Chuck say,

“What have I told you about playing in the junkyard?”

He thinks maybe Mako has it right.

***

Day fifteen comes, and Raleigh still has no partner to accompany him in Gypsy Danger. The stress is staring to build, just like it had when he and Yancy were looking for someone other than each other to Drift with. At the time, they had both been of the opinion that they did not want family in their heads. They had both been wrong, of course, because if they couldn’t bring down walls for family, they sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to with strangers. The point still stands that, without someone to call partner, Raleigh Becket is probably the loneliest Ranger in existence. 

It’s at ten past noon when a tiny knocking sounds on his cabin door. Raleigh, as shirtless at the day his mother birthed him, opens the door to find Avis and Chuck waiting outside. Avis isn’t wearing her jumpsuit, instead she’s put on a bright green dress with Striker’s insignia pinned to her shoulder, and a jacket, though she’s still wearing her scuffed up boots. Chuck, likewise, is in a plain shirt and jeans. 

It’s Avis that knocked on the door, but now that it’s open, she looks back to Chuck as if to ask for guidance. Chuck shakes his head and says,

“You wanted him to come, you ask him.”

Avis turns back to Raleigh with a petulant frown marring her face and asks,

“Do you wanna take a walk wif Ducky an’ me?”

Raleigh raises an eyebrow at Chuck, who only rolls his eyes, then says to Avis,

“Can I put a shirt on first?”

Avis puts on a considering face and says, “Shoes, too, I think.” 

Raleigh laughs and leaves the door open while he slides into a shirt, grabs his jacket, and shoves his feet into a pair of boots. He doesn’t bother lock the door as he leaves; if someone thinks he has anything worth stealing, they can just have a look themselves. He doesn’t bother to ignore the appreciative look Chuck had thrown his way when he opened the door either.

Outside, Hong Kong is actually bright. The weather is still muggy and oppressive, but the clouds have seemed to scatter for the moment. The three of them and Max wander down a street full of people taking advantage of the day just like everyone else is. Avis splits her time between telling Chuck something, racing with Max, and grabbing Raleigh’s hand to get his attention. Chuck acts as if this is completely normal, but Raleigh wonders how Avis could be energetic all the time.

“Is she always like this?” he asks when Avis takes off with Max again; Chuck apparently has no fear of losing her.

“This? This is bloody tame for Avis. This is Avis sleepwalking,” Chuck says neutrally, without any inflection in his voice.

Raleigh shoots Chuck a sidelong look, but lets the conversation drop, as the younger man obviously has nothing to say to him. They walk another block and a half, watching Avis dodge in and out of the crowd, but never truly leaving their sight. Salesmen and women shout their wares across the street, each trying to be louder than the rest, and Raleigh is just beginning to think he isn’t up for much more noise, not without adapting from the silence of the Alaskan wilderness, when Chuck says,

“Thank you for bringing Avis in from the rain.”

Raleigh thinks he’s hearing things, but he doesn’t want to make Chuck say it again.

“I figured you’d be looking for her sooner or later,” he shrugs.

They let the street noise cover up their silence for another two blocks. Avis falls back to their sides, thoroughly winded and sated for the moment. Max waddles in front of them, pausing occasionally to sniff bits of trash and other people. Raleigh startles when Avis takes his hand, but doesn’t pull away; she’s taken ahold of Chuck, too. By the time they reach the Boneslum, which seems to have been their destination, Avis is quiet and sleepy.

“Stay awake,” Chuck tells her, tugging on her arm. “We’re almost there.”

“Where are we going?” Raleigh asks.

“T’ see Uncle Hannibal,” Avis says, not bothering to cover a rather large yawn. “His birfday is tomorra.”

“Okay,” Raleigh says, though he has no idea who, or honestly what, Uncle Hannibal is.

It doesn’t take them another five minutes before Chuck turns them into a Chinese apothecary; the Hansen younger holds the door for all of them. Inside, the tiny room is full of dark shelves, and incense smoke, and the shelves are lined with jar upon jar of what Raleigh is starting to recognize as Kaiju bits. He must have the strangest look on his face because Avis takes pity on him and says,

“Uncle Hannibal sells Kaiju guts. He’s really good at it.”

A curtain of beads behind the cluttered counter clacks as it moves aside for a rather thin, bald woman. She hoists a cigarette to her lips and when she turns her head to breathe out the smoke in another direction, which is strangely polite, Raleigh can see the traditional Chinese dragon tattoos on her head and neck. 

“Hi, Toki. C’n we see Uncle Hannibal?” Avis asks.

The bald woman, Toki apparently, looks Raleigh over sharply, but Chuck says,

“He’s fine, Toki. He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

Raleigh doesn’t know whether to take that as trust of his secret keeping abilities, or as a threat. Either way, Toki pushes a button on the underside of the counter, and the shelves to their left begin to shift. When the hidden doors finally swing all the way open, Chuck ushers them both through and tells Max to stay put. The room beyond is much more modern than the apothecary front. The floors are white tile, and the walls are stacked with larger jars filled with larger Kaiju bits. There’s a very large man standing over an average sized woman while the woman illustrates something in an old leather book. The man is wearing a red silk suit, gold plated shoes, and coke bottle glasses with side blinders that turn them into goggles. 

Avis waits until the woman has closed the book and shuffled away before throwing her arms into the air and very sleepily calling,

“Happy Birthday, Uncle Han!”

She shuffles over to him and he scoops her up into very large arms. Avis lies over on his shoulder to make herself comfortable and looks minutes away from dropping off to sleep.

“Newton!” Hannibal calls further into the room. A dark haired man with thick glasses and skin full of Kaiju tattoos pops around the corner. Raleigh thinks he might be one of the K-scientists he was introduced to at the Shatterdome. 

“Stop telling people it’s my birthday!” Hannibal commands.

“I’s no’ yer birfday?” Avis yawns.

“It is,” Hannibal sighs. “I just wish he’d stop telling people.”

“Avis isn’t ‘people’!” Newton says. “Avis is as close to having kids as you’ll let me get!”

“I keep tellin’ you we could keep her if you let me pop off Chuckles, here!”

Chuck doesn’t take offense to Hannibal’s comment, so Raleigh figures this must be a frequently reoccurring argument.

“Nooooooo,” Avis whines. “Leaf Ducky ‘lone.”

“Come get your love child,” Hannibal says to Newton. As the scientist comes forward, Hannibal says to Chuck,

“We’ll see you in a few days, Chuckles. Don’t knock anything over on your way out.”

Raleigh thinks it’s an odd dismissal, seeing as Chuck just handed over his daughter, but he is wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

***

Raleigh, Chuck, and Max make it almost all the way back to the Shatterdome in silence. The streets are still just as crowded, and they pause every block or so to give Max the time to catch up. Raleigh suspects the bulldog will be so exhausted by the end of the day that he’ll sleep pretty well; he’s envious, and wishes sleep would come so easily. 

Chuck’s mood has been steadily declining since they dropped Avis off with the Kaiju dealer, and Raleigh wonders why he does so if it makes him miserable, so he asks. 

“If you don’t like them, then why did you let Avis stay?”

“What?” Chuck says.

“If you don’t like Hannibal, why did you leave Avis with him?”

“I like Hannibal fine,” he says, looking at him like Raleigh has grown a second head. 

“You sure about that?” Raleigh asks.

Chuck’s face goes slack, then he huffs and turns away, whistling for Max to follow.

***

“I don’t get him,” Raleigh grunts as he blocks another of Mako’s strikes. 

The younger woman parries and dances away, assuming a distance just beyond his reach.

“I do not think he understands you either,” she says hooking her staff under his and twisting it away. 

Raleigh raises his hands is defeat, and Mako tosses his staff back, ready for another round. They continue the pattern for several minutes, making opposite steps, blocking, striking, and settling into a stalemate. The air in the Kwoon is calm, a shared atmosphere of two fighters in sync. Raleigh finds bouncing ideas off of Mako and receiving her opinion in turn is easy, easier than it has been in a long time. Mako herself has come to be more relaxed over the time they spend beating each other; each of them gives as good as they get. 

“Chuck is a worrier," Mako finally says. “He does not want Avis to grow up in the cockpit of Jaeger like he and I did. He does not want her to feel that this is the only path in life.”

They both drop their staffs and move together into hand-to-hand.

“I get that,” Raleigh grunts after a hard knock to the solar plexus. 

“He does not want her to be familiar with only him because he does not think he will come back from the Breach.”

Raleigh twists out of the arm lock Mako has him in, forcing their ground to equal.

“He’s preparing her for the possibility of his death,” Raleigh realizes.

“Yes.”

***

On day eighteen, Avis is brought back to the Shaterdome by way of limousine; Newton, who is again introduced to Raleigh as Dr. Newton Geiszler, but I swear to God if you don’t call me Newt I might implode, accompanies her, chatting amicably about who would win in a fight, Striker Eureka or Gypsy Danger. Newt says Striker Eureka, with an apologetic shrug; Avis declares, with all the conviction that a hero-worshiping eight year old can, that it would be an equal match.

Raleigh isn’t inclined to find out either way.

“Alright,” Newt says after they have blocked the main entrance of the Shatterdome for a solid five minutes, discussing the merits on an imaginary fight, “let’s get you back to Chuck. Lord willing and the Kaiju don’t rise, he may actually be in a good mood.”

Raleigh finds the bastardized American saying funny in a German accent.

“I wan’ t’ go wif Ranga Becket,” Avis says to Newt, then to Raleigh, “You were on yer way t’ see Gypsy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Raleigh says.

“I’ll go wif him,” she tells Newt.

The K-scientist looks between the two of them and says, “I am not being blamed for this. Go ask Chuck first.”

“Yes, Uncle Newt,” Avis says; she rolls her eyes as soon as Newt turns away.

Raleigh chuckles, and lets Avis lead the way. She turns down a hallway that Raleigh isn’t all that familiar with, but he’ll let her lead him where ever she thinks she’s going. He isn’t positive of Chuck’s current location, but when he passed through the Jeager bay a few hours earlier, the Aussie was arm deep in Striker’s hip, helping a crew member reconnect lubrication cables.

Once he’s good and turned around, Avis says to him, “I thin’ I’m lost.”

“What do you mean lost?” Raleigh asks. “I thought you knew where you were going.”

“Who tol’ you I knew wh’re I was goin’?” she asks him like he’s an idiot. “I jus’ like t’ wander ‘round.”

“I thought you wanted to see Gypsy.”

“I do, but I don’ see you leadin’ this parade!”

Raleigh laughs and scoops her up, tossing her around until Avis is settled on his shoulders. She’s laughing, a bright, mindless laugh that only children seem to be able to accomplish these days. If Raleigh is honest with himself, Avis makes his time at the Shatterdome more bearable. She’s always optimistic and sassier than his own sister had been when she was that age.

They wander the halls for a while longer, Avis asking questions about Gypsy and then telling him about all the vids she had seen, before they bump into Tendo, almost literally. The shorter man’s arms are full of cables and wiring structures and he’s missing his signature bowtie. 

“Tendo!” Avis crows.

“Hello, Avis, Raleigh. What has you wandering down this way?”

“We’re lost,” Raleigh says like it’s no big deal. “Do you need help?”

“This whole place needs help,” Tendo says sourly.

“What’s wrong?”

“LOCCENT just went down,” he says. “Our monitoring equipment is still functioning, but we’ve had to stall all progress in the Jaeger bays due to surge flashes.”

Raleigh raises and eyebrow.

“If a Kaiju comes up,” the technician says flatly, “we’ll know about it, but the Jaegers in the field will be in the dark; all the comm systems are fried.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Unfortunately, no. We have to rewire everything, and all we can do is pray for time.”

“Goo’ luck, Tendo,” Avis says.

“Thanks, Avis,” he says, and manages to hold onto all the cables with one hand to fist bump the girl.

***

After being directed to Gypsy’s private hangar, Raleigh and Avis settle themselves on a cat walk positioned below the small tech compartment; they can see all of Gypsy, but are out of the way. Most of the technicians have abandoned their projects, as Tendo has forbidden all work on Jaegers until LOCCENT is back up and running. Gypsy herself is, well, if Raleigh is honest, she looks sort of like a relic. 

All of her paint has been buffed off, and most of her center plating and nuclear shields have been replaced. Her right arm’s been rebuilt from scratch, but looks essentially the same. There’s still obvious work to be done before she’s field ready, but there’s definitely more of her than the last time Raleigh saw her. Though, there are not as many wounds as he was anticipating.

“I thin’ Miss. Mori should b’ yer par’ner,” Avis says, suddenly but quietly, as if she does not want to break the sanctity of the atmosphere.

“Do you?” Raleigh asks. He can’t say he hasn’t considered it, with the way they communicate in the Kwoon, but he has kept from hoping due to her apparent lack of will to be a pilot. “Why?”

“I’ve se’n you two fight,” Avis says, “early in th’ mornin’ in th’ Kwoon. You an’ she fight like Ducky an’ Grandpa Herc. Ya know each other.”

Ignoring that anyone on the planet could get away with calling Hercules Hansan ‘grandpa’, Raleigh says quietly, “Sometimes it takes more than matching blows in the Kwoon for two people to Drift. You have to be willing to pilot, and you have to let someone into your head.”

“Miss. Mori wan’s t’ be a pilot more than anythin’ in th’ world,” she tells him. “Just Uncle Stacker won’ let ‘er.”

“He must have a good reason,” Raleigh says.

“I thin’ ‘e’s scared of ‘er getting’ hurt. He dunnae wan’ ‘er t’ pilot ‘cause he dunnae wan’ ‘er t’ die.”

“That’s a pretty good reason.”

“I dun like it when Ducky pilots,” she says quietly. “One time ‘e migh’ no’ come back. Bu’ if Ducky dinnae pilot, ‘h woulnnae be Ducky.”

“That’s very true.”

“I hope you an’ yer par’ner come back,” she says.

“I hope we do, too, Avis.”

***

It’s half past five when Raleigh and Avis finally wander back into the more populated areas of the Shatterdome. Avis began complaining of hunger an hour ago, but neither had been ready to leave the ever watchful eye of Gypsy Danger. It’s one of the technicians that finally asks them to leave; apparently those who have become loyal to Gypsy lock her hangar up tight when the day ends. Raleigh can’t say he complains.

The two of them wander into the cafeteria, no thought to what Chuck has been doing for the last few hours until they spot him sitting by himself at the table the Rangers usually occupy. Raleigh makes sure Avis gets real food, and not just mashed potatoes and jello like she keeps trying to do, and the pair of them head in Chuck’s direction. Chuck kisses Avis on the head when she gets near enough, but doesn’t say a word against or about Raleigh watching over her.

Through mouthfuls of mashed potatoes, jello, and the green peas Raleigh forced Avis to take, the little Irish girl regales Chuck with the tales of her and Raleigh’s adventures of the day, including their conversation with Tendo, and how she thinks Raleigh and Mako would make a great piloting pair. Through the true, and sometimes over exaggerated, stories, Chuck keeps glancing at him, as if just seeing Raleigh as an actual person for the first time, not just a Ranger who could no longer pilot after the loss of his brother. Raleigh, never one to let his opinion fall quietly, let’s Chuck see that whatever animosity that began between them is gone. 

***

It’s eleven forty-five and Raleigh is back in his room, has been for hours. He’s lying in his bunk, flipping through a paperback book he didn’t even realize he’d brought with him; he’d found it in the bottom of his duffel bag. It’s a familiar book, the pages worn, the spine split in the places it’s been read most; some passages have been highlighted or underlined. 

The knock on his door is light, and surprising. Raleigh sighs and sets his book down, rolling sideways off of the twin mattress. When he answers the door, the last thing he’s expecting is Chuck Hansen standing in the hall in his pajamas. His hair’s tousled, like he’d rolled over a few times in bed then run his fingers through it. He’s wearing his father’s Jaeger Academy Class of 2016 t-shirt.

Chuck looks at him like Raleigh opening the door is a problem, when it was Chuck that started the engagement. In response, Raleigh leaves the door standing open in invitation and goes back to the bunk he’d chosen for himself. He’s just flipped his book back to where he left off when he hears Chuck climb the two steps outside of all the bunk rooms, and close the door. The other Ranger doesn’t say anything, merely sets himself down on the unoccupied bunk. 

Raleigh is unconsciously counting the seconds before Chuck speaks, and reaches 682 when he asks quietly, “What are you reading?”

“ _Fahrenheit 451_ ,” Raleigh says, flipping the book around to show Chuck the cover. 

“What’s it about?”

“It’s a futuristic society,” Raleigh says, “where firemen don’t put out fires, they start them.”

“Why?”

Raleigh and Chuck talk until three.

***

On day twenty, Avis has a come apart in the middle of the Kwoon.

Mako has selected another set of candidates for Raleigh to spar with, this group smaller and more odd than the last few. Raleigh doesn’t even have the energy to toy with them anymore; he’s ending each match in three blows or less, and every time he does, both Avis and Mako grow more frustrated. Raleigh has become stale in the hope that this will ever work.

Hercules Hansen and Marshall Stacker Pentecost step in to observe, and Raleigh can feel the itch in his spine, the itch that tells him he’s being watched, judged. Avis is accompanying herself, having slipped away from Chuck to watch the matches. She’s standing by Mako and restlessly tapping her foot. When Raleigh flattens the last Ranger in less than a minute, Avis breaks.

“This is RIDICULOUS!” she yells, and those few who have gathered in the training room freeze.

“Avis,” Mako says firmly.

“NO! This _is_ ridiculous! I’s b’en twenty days since we started this bloody mess, an’ the only person Ranga Becket c’n fight on equal terms is _you_! An’ you keep givin’ ‘im th’ bottom of th’ barrel!” 

“It is not my place,” Mako says.

“IT BLOODY WELL IS YOUR PLACE!! Yer th’ only one tha’ wan’s t’ be in a Jaeger more’n anythin’, bu’ you won’ fight fer it!”

Those who do not have a stake in the conversation slowly begin to move out of the room. Once the door has been closed, Raleigh squats in front of Avis, staff balanced on his knees. 

“Avis,” he says, “we talked about this. You can’t just force two people into a Drift. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I wasn’t going to bring it up,” Herc says, rubbing his head as if to will away a headache. “But Miss. Mori is almost definitely Drift compatible with Becket.”

Marshall Pentecost glares at his longtime friend. The other Ranger shrugs as if to apologize.

“Marshall, sir,” Mako says.

“My office, Miss. Mori,” he says, stalling the conversation. “Now.”

Mako bows slightly, and leaves the Kwoon.

***

Raleigh takes Avis to Chuck. 

The two of them walk down the hallway silently; Avis has her arms crossed and she refuses to respond to any of Raleigh’s questions or comments, like it’s his fault that the Marshall is most likely putting Mako in her place right now. Raleigh gives up, instead leading the way to the doubled quarters that Avis shares with Chuck and Herc. 

The door is unlocked, but when the two enter, Avis leading, they can hear the shower running in the adjoining bathroom. Raleigh and Avis take a seat at the two person table pushed against one wall, the girl refusing to look at anything other than her shoes, and settle in to wait for Chuck.  
When Hansen the younger does stumble out of the bathroom, sweatpants slung low on his hips, shirtless, and toweling his hair, he lowers the cloth, spasms, and shouts,

“Bloody fuck!”

He drops his towel and covers his face, obviously realizing that he’d just cursed in front of his adopted daughter, which Raleigh has noticed he’s pretty good at not doing.

“What,” he says, voice strained and still feeling the effects of a rather good scare, “are either of you bloody doing here? You,” he points at Avis, “I dropped you off with your tutor an hour ago. “You,” he points at Raleigh, “are supposed to be with Mako in the Kwoon.”

Raleigh rolls his head over to look at Avis.

“Do you want to tell him?” he asks her.

“Tell me what?” Chuck says forebodingly.

Avis slides out of her chair, and stomps over to the only bunk tucked into a corner and protected by a privacy screen.

“You. Tell me. Outside,” Chuck demands of Raleigh, pointing to the door.

They sit on the stairs outside of Chuck’s quarters, after Chuck has closed the door softly in a very pointed way, and Raleigh notices that despite the toweling, Chuck is still covered in pinpoint sized droplets of water. One of the larger ones sitting in the hairline on the back of Chuck’s neck makes a run for it, sliding down and collecting his brethren as it rolls its way between the Aussie’s finely cut shoulders and down his back. Raleigh realizes that he’s reaching the point where he can no longer deny that looking at Chuck is pretty nice.

Chuck draws him out of that line of thought when he sighs and asks,

“Why are you bringing me Avis when she’s supposed to be in with her tutor?”

“She threw a fit,” Raleigh says, “in the Kwoon.”

Chuck groans.

“At the Marshall.”

He won’t say that Chuck’s groan tapers off into a whine, but if so, Raleigh does the courtesy of not mentioning it. 

“What the fuck about.”

Chuck doesn’t even pose it as a question.

“She’s under the firm belief that Mako and I should be co-pilots, and she told the Marshall so. Loudly.”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Chuck says.

Raleigh is surprised that he and Mako have yet another supporter, especially in Chuck, who wanted to have nothing to do with him in the beginning. It isn’t that he doubts his own or Mako’s ability to Drift, or that they may make a spectacular pair, but he wonders how others could have seen it before them. Granted, this isn’t what he wanted, Pentecost goaded and guilted him back into a Jaeger, but he didn’t think he was so out of practice he couldn’t spot his own potential partner. 

“Stop with the face,” Chuck says. “Dad and I are dropping a six ton nuclear bomb down the Breach in a week and a half, and I sure as hell don’t want some green as grass pilot right out of the Academy watching my back. Mako’s good, better than most, and if you two can Drift together, joy to the world. I’ll take what I can get at this moment.”

“That’s awe-inspiring confidence, Chuck,” Raleigh says drily. “Any more of that and I might start to think you like me.”

***

The morning of day twenty-one rolls in with the fog over Hong Kong’s harbor. Raleigh’s sitting on one of the docks assigned to the Shatterdome, smoking his third cigarette. He hasn’t smoked in years, gave it up when he and his brother graduated from the Academy, but he’s back in the habit. It isn’t so much of an addiction as something he used to do with his brother, something to occupy his time and still his hands. Later, he’ll report to Mako in the Kwoon to meet more potentials, and she’ll frown at the stink.

That’s a new thing for him, knowing what to expect from someone in his life. Building the Wall, he’d avoided the other men working for their ration cards, and while that had kept him from feeling much about the occasional death, it had also kept him in the dark. He didn’t know their names, or their families, or why they were on the damn wall to begin with. He knew their faces, and he knew who could be counted on to do their jobs; nothing else had been relevant. 

Once the sky starts to wash from black-blue to blue to pink-orange, Raleigh decides he very much needs a cup of coffee after the third sleepless night in a row. He heads back to the Shatterdome through the spare parts yard after he puts out his last cigarette; the box is jammed back into his pocket for another long day of wear and abuse. 

The kitchen is just beginning to stir by the time he heads in, but there’s half a pot left from the night shift; he’s pleasantly surprised that it’s lukewarm. He sits down at the Ranger’s usual table and lays his head in his arms, letting the familiar rattle of pots and pans in the kitchen lull him, not to sleep, but into a hazier state than he spent most of the night in. Raleigh gets to spend most of the pre-dawn and dawn hours undisturbed, just like the rest of the night. 

At seven thirty, as with every morning previous, Tendo wanders in to start a new pot. He looks as put together as any day, bow tie straight and suspenders clipped on properly, but Raleigh can tell he’s barley awake. With a fresh mug in hand, the head of LOCCENT shuffles over to take a seat with Raleigh, though the Ranger knows they won’t be talking; Tendo isn’t decent company until at least his third cup of coffee. 

Slowly but surely, the other Rangers and the technical crews and what’s left of the now minimized K-science teams start to trickle in, stumbling in the direction of the food line, and all together ignoring that at any other time of the day they’d separate to be with their own. When the Kaidonovskys enter, they are fresh faced and wide awake, and the bane of everyone else’s morning existence. The Wei triplets, when they manage not to trip over each other, skip the food line and head straight for the Ranger’s corner, Cheung riding on Hu’s back. 

Herc and Chuck look like they’re fresh out of the Kwoon, both still in sweat pants and t-shirts. Chuck’s limping, not heavily but noticeably, and he heads for the corner while Herc turns towards food. When the younger Ranger sits down next to Raleigh, he does so with a sigh and his fingers go to rub at his left ankle, which is turning a magnificent shade of purple. Raleigh pokes at it and gets swatted for his efforts. 

“Herc get you in the ankle again?” Tendo asks.

“It’s always the fucking ankle,” Chuck hisses. 

“If it is always your ankle, you should have learned better by now,” Sahsa says, accent almost unbearably thick in the morning lull.

“That’s what I keep tellin’ him,” Herc says, tossing Chuck a bag of ice and an apple.

Chuck crunches into the apple and flips his father off, though he doesn’t ignore the ice. Raleigh can feel the cold from his seat without even touching the bag, but Chuck must think it feels like heaven because he moans and continues to munch on his fruit without another word to the continued abuse between him and his father. 

“Where’s Avis?” Raleigh asks.

“Little tucker’s grounded,” Herc says for Chuck. “She knows betta than the shite she pulled in the kwoon yesterday.”

“She’s spending the next three days with her tutor,” Chuck comments around his apple. “And she’s not allowed to talk to you or Mako.”

“Do not bring Raleigh and me into your punishments, Chuck.”

Mako is wearing a plain jumpsuit, just like the one she wears when spending time in the hangar with Gypsy Danger, but instead of olive green, this one is dark purple and clean. It’s remarkably close to the one Raleigh was issued upon arrival, even has the same…

Raleigh’s thoughts taper off, distracted as he is by the brand new Gypsy Danger patch sewn into the pocket of Mako’s jumpsuit.

Raleigh looks at Mako, then at Herc, sitting across the table, then the Weis, and back at Mako.

“Yeah?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” Mako agrees, and that’s all there is to the conversation. 

Chuck and Raleigh slide apart to give the newest Ranger room to join them. The smile on Raleigh’s face mimics Mako’s, happy and open and grateful that after all the disappointments. 

The two of them are finally able to settle into each other. 

***

On day twenty-two, their first Drift doesn’t take.

Mako, for all that she has worked for this most of her life, is nervous. Drift simulators do not prepare a candidate for the real thing, and her first reaction is to shut Raleigh out, to keep her mind her own, to hide behind the walls she’s been building. Raleigh takes her hand, comforts her, and what they are doing suddenly becomes real for the Japanese national. She’s attempting to share her mind, her inner most being, with a man she met twenty-two days ago, all for the sake of climbing into a Jaeger and proving to the Kaiju that this is their world, and they will not give it up. 

Their second Drift is smooth. They slide into each other, mixing and contaminating memories and gathering thoughts. A knot in Mako’s chest loosens, doesn’t fade, but she can feel Raleigh coaxing it away. It’s like a storm is surrounding them, flickering and rumbling and crashing as their minds meet and collide. Lightning flickers on the edge of Mako’s vision, but Raleigh takes her hand in his and leads her away, back to their own physical bodies. 

_Don’t chase the RABIT_ , he says.

Opening her eyes, she feels like she’s never done so before and that this world is new and fresh and hers for the taking. Raleigh’s laugh echoes in the back of her skull, confident and comforting. He takes her hand as he recedes from her mind, and she’s left with the impression of his absence. Thoughts that aren’t hers linger as the Drift fades, and they feel like elation, like joy and comfort, and they taste a bit like saltwater. 

Mako leans in and bumps her head against Raleigh’s, just like his cat used to do, and isn’t it funny to have memories that aren’t hers circling her mind.

***

Day twenty-four sees Mako and Raleigh lying on the floor in the Kwoon, bruised and battered and soaked in sweat. It’s harder now, sparing. The brief glimpses they had into each other means their predictions are more accurate, more dangerous, and they cannot keep from surprising themselves in a fight. They’ve been tied for the last hour and a half.

“I do not think,” Mako pants, “that we should continue.”

“No,” Raleigh agrees, flipping over and pressing his face into the cool mat beneath them. “We’re done.”

Raleigh laughs and makes himself comfortable where he is. Mako thinks he is a strange creature, able to make himself at home wherever he may be. Mako points her toes and stretches out her calf muscles, thinking of whether Raleigh would get mad should she follow the question that has been nipping at her since their first successful Drift; without the though fully formed in her mind she knows he would not.

“What’s bothering you, Mako?”

“You have been here twenty-four days,” she says.

“Right.”

“How long did it take you to become smitten with Chuck Hansen?”

Raleigh stops breathing and, when Mako turns her head back to look at him, the tips of his ears and the tops of his shoulders have gone red. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, flicking drops of sweat from his fingers. 

“That obvious?”

“Not to Chuck, no, but maybe to the other Rangers. It makes sense.”

“I broke his nose two weeks ago.”

“He bruised your ribs and blackened your eye. I would say he gave as good as he received.”

“Got,” Raleigh laughs, fingering the still tender flesh around his right eye. “He gave as good as he got.”

Mako shrugs and sits up, continuing to stretch while the sweat dries on their bodies.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“What is there to do?”

“You could tell him,” she suggests. 

“Yeah, right. I’d just walk away with another black eye.”

“If you think so, then maybe you have not judged Chuck as well as you thought you had.”

***

Day thirty-three. The beginning of the end. It’s the first night of decent sleep Raleigh’s had in five years (four months, and twelve days). It’s the first night in five years he’s had that hum taking up space in the silent corners of his mind. He knows Mako slept pretty well, too. They wake at the same time, and spend the morning hours they are allowed separate and together. Raleigh folds the note he wrote the night before and uses it as a bookmark for _Fahrenheit 451_. If he makes it back, makes it away, alive, from a successfully closed Breach, then it’ll make no difference.

The Jaeger hangar is almost silent when the Rangers take their places side by side; they only await their final orders now. All lingering mess has been cleared away and the only technicians that remain are those that will help them into their respective ConPods. The Jaegers themselves have been buffed and waxed to a shine. Even Gypsy looks as good as new; she’s sporting a new paint job. Her colors are still the same, Raleigh wouldn’t let those change, but there has been a new addition.

“What has Gypsy got on her left forward?” he asks Mako quietly.

She smiles secretly at him and says, “You will see.”

“Rangers,” the Marshall’s voice rings through the open cabin. “Fall in.”

The nine remaining Rangers, the best of the best, fall into an ordered line. They’re each already outfitted in their Pod suits, and the colors designate which Jaeger they belong to. The Kaidonovskys are holding hands, as are the Wei brothers. Herc’s arm is thrown around Chuck’s shoulders and the younger is leaning pretty heavily on his old man. Raleigh feels Mako reach out and twine their pinkies together. 

Avis is standing next to the Marshall, clenching his hand in hers. She’s wearing her Striker Eureka jumpsuit, but Raleigh can see that someone has sewn a Gypsy Danger patch over her chest. It makes him feel a bit better, going to a potential death for the sake of a world that has no interest in him other that his uses, like maybe there are a few things he’d brave the Breach for.

“This is our last mission together, ladies and gentlemen. At 0800, a fleet of Blackhawk helicopters will escort you and your Jaegers within a mile of the Breach. Striker Eureka has been tasked to drop a six ton nuclear bomb through the Breach in the attempt to disrupt the currents between our world and theirs,” Marshall Pentecost pauses.

“Some of you may not make it back. None of you may make it back. If that is the case, it was an honor serving will all of you.”

Even as the Marshall says the words, Raleigh can tell they are meant more for Mako than any other person standing there.

“Five minutes to drop, gentlemen.”

Avis drops the Marshall’s hand and races to the Hansens, tears bubbling over and quiet sobs racking her body. The others settle, and Mako and Raleigh are the only two to separate; Mako approaches the only father she remembers and Raleigh reins Chuck away from his father and daughter. Chuck pulls Avis away from his chest and hands her to his dad. Avis, who doesn’t entirely realize that she’s been transferred, locks onto Herc and continues to sob. Raleigh pulls Chuck away from the others. 

Herc doesn’t say anything, but his eyes follow them.

“What do you want, _Rah_ leigh? We’ve got five minutes ‘til drop and I’d like to spend them with my dad and my daughter.”

Raleigh smiles; this is the first time Chuck’s called him by his first name, or referred to Herc as ‘dad’. He grabs the younger man by the top of his chest plate and hauls him in. Chuck seems flabbergasted at first, then realizes what’s happening and takes the initiative himself. 

The kiss isn’t soft or emotional; it’s a promise. Their teeth clack and Chuck bites his lip too hard once, but they settle into it nicely. Raleigh pulls away and sets their foreheads together. Chuck’s grinning like an idiot, dopey and actually happy for once.

“When this is over,” Raleigh says. “When we’re back and we’ve sealed the Breach, this is happening, yeah?”

“You bet your ass it is,” Chuck growls.

***

Mako’s watching him smugly as the technicians strap them in and connect them to Gypsy’s ConnPod. Raleigh catches her look and rolls his eyes.

“You make him happy,” Mako comments. 

Raleigh’s ears and neck turn red, but he doesn’t turn away from watching the technician hook up his right arm.

“Coming through,” someone shouts, and those who are not strapped into floor cranks move back. 

It’s a technician that Raleigh vaguely recognizes as being on Gypsy Danger’s crew when he and Yancy had been stationed in Alaska. She smiles and him and ducks under his arms so that she’s standing in front of him. She raises her elbow and uses it to buff the left pectoral of his chest plate. Raleigh looks over to Mako, but she’s smiling wider than before. He startles some when the technician smacks him on the chest, but when he looks at her, she’s not looking at him. She’s looking at his chest plate. 

Where a bare piece of dark purple suit used to be shines a brand new sticker. It’s a heart about the side of his fist with a banner scrawled across it. The banner reads _Yancy _.__

Raleigh looks at the technician then over at Mako. He doesn’t know what to say.

**Author's Note:**

> On a more serious note, I hope you liked it. Leave a comment, if you would.


End file.
